Here Comes the Bride (15 page)

Across the acres, riding as though carried on wings, Gabriel raced toward them. He leapt from his horse before the animal even stopped.

Without a word, he dropped to Bart’s side, his eyes taking in everything—the wet bandana draped across his brother’s forehead; the thin cotton belt wrapped around his arm; the wound itself, still red and angry; and finally, Tess. Her hair had loosened from its plait and now blew around her face in the breeze. Her eyes, wide with fear, stared straight back at him.

Gabe felt Bart’s brow, frowned, and took a closer look at the wound. Then he raised himself to his full height and in the span of a heartbeat pulled Tess roughly into his arms, one hand cupping the back of her head, the other tightening around her waist. She buried her face against his shirt, her own hands clenching the material as though her very life depended on it. She had no idea she was crying until Gabe lifted her chin gently and kissed away the tears.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice a raspy whisper.

“Y-yes, but Bart . . . oh, Gabriel . . . what if . . .”

“Don’t,” he said, stroking her back gently. “It looks like you did all you could.”

Why did she have to fit so perfectly into his embrace? It was as though she was made for this single purpose, for him alone. Gabe tucked the thought away to the very deep recesses of his mind—not gone completely, but to a place where he could pretend it had disappeared.

“How on earth did a city girl like you learn how to treat a snakebite anyway?” Gabe asked. “Don’t imagine you come across many snakes in the city.”

“Only the two-legged kind,” she said softly. When he looked quizzically at her, she flushed crimson and reluctantly confessed. “I read it in one of my books.”

Gabe’s laughter rippled through her heart.

“Not one of those dime store novels,” he teased. “I thought they were full of Cinderella types who sat around all day waiting for their Prince Charming to ride up and sweep them off their feet.”

“I suppose some of them are,” she admitted with a smile. “But the ones I read are full of intrigue and adventure. And romance.”

He stiffened, the warmth in his heart chilling to the icy wall he needed it to be. After another moment, he slowly released her and returned to his brother.

“Any whiskey left?” he asked, glancing at the flask on the ground.

“No, I used the last of it just before you arrived.”

Gabe strode over to Zeus and pulled his own flask from his saddlebag. He emptied half of it into the open wound and then recapped it. The flesh on Bart’s arm was still red and swollen—an angrier looking wound he couldn’t recall seeing—but at least Tess had known what to do. Thank God for that.

Tess.

Gabe’s heart nearly jumped through his chest. What if it had been her who was bitten? Bart was a big man, he could surely fight off any remaining venom, but Tess . . . she was so small, so fragile. There was no way she would survive such an injury. God help them both, she could have been killed today.

A cold knot formed in the pit of his stomach, the muscle along his jawline flexing in barely controlled rage.

“From now on,” he said flatly, “you’d best stay near the house where I can keep an eye on you.”

“What?” Her confusion played across her face. “I knew it,” she muttered. “I told Bart you would blame this on me. I . . .”

“Stop mumbling and speak up.” He ached to ease the frown from her brow, to thank her for saving Bart’s life and to thank God for saving hers. But he didn’t.

“I said I knew you would blame me for this. It’s my fault Bart got bit by a rattlesnake. It’s my fault the snake was here in the first place, isn’t it? It’s my fault . . .”

“Well, how is it that he was bitten then? I’m not stupid enough to believe you were not somehow involved.”

Tess stiffened, her cheeks flaming.

“I . . . we were about to head back and the horses . . . they got spooked.” She stopped long enough to swallow and furrow her brow deeper. “The snake was between Hera and me. Bart crept around the tree there to get at the snake from behind.”

“Why the hell didn’t he shoot it? God knows he never makes a move without that damn .45.”

“It was in his saddlebag.”

“And the saddlebag was . . .”

“The horses ran as soon as the reins were untied from the tree.”

“Of course.” Gabe shook his head in disgust. “So what you’re telling me is Bart was trying to get the snake away from you, is that right?”

“Y-yes. But . . .”

Gabe turned his back to her, mostly so she wouldn’t see his face. It could have easily been Tess lying in the grass. He leaned over his brother, felt his brow again, and frowned himself. The fever had all but vanished, leaving Bart cool and clammy.

“He’s getting chilled,” Gabe muttered. “Where the hell is Joby with the wagon?”

Tess marched over to Meg and fought to uncinch the saddle. She threw it to the ground and pulled the blanket off the horse’s back, unfolding it as she moved. It wasn’t nearly large enough to cover him, but it would do for now. Gabe snatched it from her hands and wrapped it around Bart, tucking it underneath to keep him up off the ground. Before he’d finished, the sound of pounding hooves could be heard in the distance.

Tess exhaled loudly. “Hurry, Joby.”

Joby reined in the team a few feet away and jumped down.

“How’s he doin’?” he asked.

Gabe shrugged. “We’ll see how he takes the ride home. Let’s get him loaded.”

Tess scrambled into the back that had been filled with straw and blankets. She arranged it as best she could, lying one of the old, worn horse blankets down on top of the straw.

Gabe and Joby lifted him gingerly into the back of the wagon and then straightened him out. Tess immediately wrapped him in the remaining blankets, praying they would be enough to keep him warm on the long ride home. It would be slow going because they had to take care not to jostle him too much lest any remaining poison get moved around.

“Pass me that canteen and cloth,” she ordered, expecting Joby to respond. Gabe tossed it up and tied Zeus to the back of the wagon before climbing up himself. He re-claimed his Stetson, and it now sat beside him. Tess wondered briefly why he didn’t put it on, but that was the least of her concerns right now.

“Joby,” Gabe barked, “saddle up Meg there and get home. Tell Rosa what’s going on, that we’ll need a bed ready when we get there. Then go fetch Doc Bender and have him waiting for us. Feed him if you have to—but don’t let him at the whiskey.”

Joby nodded and hurried to do as he was told. Gabe clicked to the horses and sent the wagon off across the vast expanse of land that still separated them from the house. It wasn’t five minutes later when Joby flew past, racing to beat hell—or, as it were, Gabe.

Tess took Bart’s hand again. It lay cold and limp in her lap, giving her chills of her own.

“It’s going to be okay now, Bart,” she said gently. “We’re going home. You’re going to be fine, you hear me? Of course Rosa’s going to tan your hide for scaring us this way, but I won’t let her beat you up too badly. I’ll tell her it was my fault, how you were only trying to protect me from my sorry little self.”

She stopped, unable to speak past the lump in her throat. Gabe was right; if Bart died, it would be her fault. If he hadn’t been showing her the herd, he never would have been near that damned snake.

“You saved my life,” she whispered hoarsely. “Oh, Bart . . . I . . .”

Bart’s lids fluttered briefly, then stilled. His tongue ventured out slowly, trying in vain to moisten his parched lips. Tess nearly dropped the canteen in her hurry to help. She wet the cloth and held it against his mouth.

“Drink,” she said softly. “Oh, thank God, Bart. Drink.”

Gabe spun in his seat, managing to keep the team moving forward.

“Is he awake?”

“Yes.” She was crying again. “Yes, he is. Bart, can you hear me?”

This time he managed to lick his lips. “’Course,” he mumbled. “Now will ya shut up? I’m tryin’ to sleep.”

“Oh, yes.” Tess laughed. “Whatever you want. Do you want more water? Here.” She didn’t wait for him to answer, but pressed the wet cloth against his mouth again.

“Why . . .” he struggled, “why you cryin’?”

“Because I’m so happy.” She laughed, swiping at the river of tears that flowed down her face.

“Why, did he kiss ya again?” Bart’s mouth fought to smile but only managed a twitch before he fell back under the blanket of sleep.

Gabe turned front again. Neither he nor Tess spoke for a long time afterward. She sat in the straw, her back to Gabe, and continued to cry, though unlike her happy tears, these stung her eyes and throat and scorched her cheeks where they flowed.

“Tess.” Gabe’s brittle voice broke through the deafening quiet. “Now do you see why it’s not safe for you to stay here? You don’t belong here.”

Tess did not answer, did not even blink. Maybe Gabe was right; this was dangerous country for a girl to be living in, but at least she could make her own decisions. She didn’t belong here. How many times had she heard that in the last few days?

By the time they neared the house, the sun had long since set behind the mountain. Tess was shivering almost as badly as Bart. He had not opened his eyes again, and her concern deepened with every passing minute. Rosa, Miguel, and Dr. Bender met them at the bottom of the porch steps.

“How is he?” Bender asked. “Did he wake up yet?”

“Once,” Gabe answered before Tess could open her mouth. “But it wasn’t for very long and there’s been nothing since.”

He threw the reins over the post and stepped into the back of the wagon. Miguel joined him and the two men lifted Bart out as gently as they could. Tess remained in the wagon, watching as Rosa took over, clucking her way into the house ahead of them, holding the door, and ushering them up to the far bedroom.

An overpowering emptiness filled Tess, a void that left her drained physically and emotionally. She climbed out of the wagon and made her way quietly up to her room. She changed her clothes and folded the dirty riding outfit on the foot of the bed. Certain it was safe, she tiptoed back downstairs and sat at Gabe’s desk. She removed five dollars from the pay envelope and left a hastily written note on the kitchen table where it wouldn’t be missed.

She closed the door quietly behind her and started down the road, glancing back over her shoulder only once. Or twice.

 

 

“Damn it!” Gabe crumpled the note into a tight ball and threw it across the room.

“She’s gone, ain’t she?” Bart’s voice was still weak but he’d gained considerable strength in the short time he’d been home.

Pacing, Gabe nodded, his fingers trying in vain to ease the throbbing in his temples.

“She’s gone, all right, but only to stay at the hotel. What the hell is she thinking going off in the middle of the night like that?”

“She’s prob’ly thinkin’ it’s what you want her to do.”

“I don’t want her out there in the pitch dark . . .”

“So go get her.”

“No bloody way!” he bellowed. “She doesn’t belong here! Hell, Bart, she nearly got you killed.”

“That ain’t fair,” Bart said. “It weren’t her fault.”

“Of course it is! You were trying to save her life.”

“Gabe, you know that ain’t true. She saved
my
life.”

Gabe didn’t answer; he paced faster, rubbed harder. Maybe it wasn’t true, but hell’s bells, she didn’t belong here. It was better this way—well, safer anyway. So why was the ache in his belly ten times worse than the ache in his head? And why did he feel like a huge part of him just died? She was gone, out of the house, off the ranch, out of his sight. Out of his sight.

“You should go talk to ’er, Gabe. She’s prob’ly right upset.”

“I’m not her mother, Bart,” he snapped, not quite as sharply as he would have liked. Bart must have sensed it, because the look he gave his brother was all it took to make Gabe bend—a little. “I have to go to town tomorrow anyway to see Brolin. I’ll check on her then.”

Tomorrow seemed like an eternity away when, in fact, according to his internal clock, the rooster’d be crowing in a matter of a few hours.

“What are you talkin’ to him for?” Bart asked.

“I sold him the timber rights to the five acres in the south corner,” he answered distractedly. “Just have to sign the papers.”

“You mean he actually got his mill runnin’?” Bart smirked. “Never thought I’d live to see the day.”

“You almost didn’t,” Gabe reminded him.

“What does Wyatt have to say ’bout him buyin’ timber from you?”

Gabe shrugged. “I don’t see how Langman’s got any say in the matter at all. He had his chance to make a deal with Brolin, but he was too greedy and wouldn’t budge on his price. Brolin’s in business to make money, not lose it.”

“I know that, but I don’t reckon Wyatt’s gonna take this lyin’ down.”

“What’s he gonna do?” Gabe smirked. “Send one of his other idiot sons over here to get gored? Let him send the whole damn lot of them and we’ll take care of them all at once.”

Bart’s lips tightened. “Gabe . . .”

He tried to sit up but Gabe put a hand out to stop him.

“You’re supposed to be resting, so shut up and go back to sleep or Rosa’ll skin us both alive.”

For a moment, he thought Bart was going to put up a fight, but then his brother slumped back against the pillows and fell asleep, a small frown creasing his forehead. Gabe flopped in the chair beside the bed, rubbing his left palm over his mouth.

What the hell was he going to do? His conscience would not allow him to let her go like this, let her walk away without any real understanding of why she couldn’t stay. She deserved at least that much. Hell, she deserved even more—a lot more than what he had to offer.